


When I Step Out (I'm Gonna do You in)

by mizface



Series: Oracle 'verse [4]
Category: Angel: the Series, High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop trying to distract me," Sharpay said.  "We were talking about your poor choices and how unlike me, you’re stepping right into the bad clichés.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Step Out (I'm Gonna do You in)

**Author's Note:**

> Wild card fill for my cotton candy!bingo card. This is also another (previously untitled) birthday ficlet prompted by my darling lucifuge5.
> 
> Title comes from ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man"

Sharpay waved to the bartender for another round before turning her attention back to Spike. “You know, for someone who likes to dress me up, you definitely don’t show it.”

Spike’s brow furrowed in confusion; he obviously had no idea what she was talking about. “What do you mean by that?”

Sharpay looked him up and down, eyebrow quirked. “I mean this whole ‘look at me tough guy all in black and leather’ thing is tired,” she told him, complete with air quotes. “And you’ve been around long enough to know it.”

“Been around long enough to know it’s classic, you mean,” he huffed.

“You keep telling yourself that,” she replied, patting him on the hand and giving him her best pitying look. “But don’t be surprised when people think you’re just a wannabe.”

Spike tilted his beer bottle in her direction. “Don’t know if I need to take fashion advice from someone whose profession requires – excuse me, used to require – a toga,” he said with a wicked grin, then took a long drink.

“ _Used to_ being the key words. Though you wouldn’t believe how many people still expect Ry and I to wear them. The looks of surprise we get when we appear in the latest fashion is just sad.”

“You ever think about going back to wearing sheets, then?” he asked all-too innocently.

“Please! I’ll take correcting pathetic preconceived notions over living down to them any day.” She shuddered. “Not that I wouldn’t make a toga look amazing, but there are lines I refuse to cross.”

“Good to know you have your priorities straight there, pet,” Spike chuckled.

She smacked his arm, and his grin widened. “Stop trying to distract me. We were talking about your poor choices and how unlike me, you’re stepping right into the bad clichés.”

“I like what I wear,” he protested. “It suits me.”

It was Sharpay's turn to smile wickedly. “Ooh, a _suit._ Now _that,_ I would love to see.”

Spike frowned. “No way. I have no interest in dolling up and pretending to be something I’m not.” He swept a hand down his body. “This is me, like it or leave it.”

Sharpay leaned in a little closer and gave him the puppy dog look she knew for a fact worked on him. “Oh, come on, Spike,” she cooed. “I let you help find things for me. Let me return the favor. It’ll be fun.”

“Not for me it wouldn’t,” he grumbled. “Sorry, love, but you being bored just isn’t enough reason for me to play dress up.”

She latched on to what he’d given away. “But if there _was_ a reason?”

“Like what?” he laughed. “Halloween is months away. I’m never invited to anything, which is how I like it, and the places I go don’t have a dress code other than badass, which I pull off quite nicely, thank you very much.”

Sharpay leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “What about a dance? And no, not some stupid costume ball or some boring cotillion.” She sat up straight and took a drink, waiting. It didn’t take long.

“What then?” Spike asked, and she could tell he was intrigued despite himself.

She took another sip, then set her drink down before answering off-handedly. “A swing dance.”

“A _what_?”

“A swing dance, as in 1940’s big band era. As in suits and spats, hair slicked back, pinstripes just the right width. Sharp lines and sharper moves.” She made sure to put just the right hint of challenge in her tone as she went on. “Unless you don’t think you could pull it off.”

“Me in a zoot suit,” he scoffed, but it was half-hearted at most. She had him. He just had to put up a token protest, which was fine. Let him play his little tough guy game if it made him feel better. She was already mentally going through the list of where they’d need to go to get outfitted, and just what color his tie should be to complement her dress.

They were going to be _fabulous_.


End file.
